Inconceivable
by Sayuri-2012
Summary: Inspired by the episodes of Season 15, starting with "Wonderland Story" when Cragen hands Olivia a file that forces her to face up to an inconceivable truth.
1. Wonderland Story

1

"Liv, can I have a word?"

Just about to leave his office, she stopped in her tracks, turned and looked at him. It wasn't exactly unusual to be called back for a one on one with her Captain, but there was just something about his solemn tone and the barely disguised sadness in his eyes that told her that whatever it was he wanted to talk about, it was something serious and unpleasant.

"What is it Captain?" she asked nervously, still hoping that she was just being paranoid. She knew she was still jumpy, her emotions heightened. It wouldn't be the first time she had overreacted about something that turned out to be mundane.

"Can you close the door?"

Unease further gripped her as she complied and then tentatively approached the desk, sinking into the chair as he indicated with his hand and a nod

"If it's about earlier, I…"

"Liv," he hushed her. "It's not that."

She gazed at him in confusion, watching as he leaned down into his desk and a few seconds later withdrew a thick brown file.

"What is it, Captain?" she asked. She figured it was probably something to do with a case they were working on and took a deep breath, feeling a little silly for having got so skittish.

"It's the results of your rape kit, Olivia," he said softly, holding out the file.

Stunned, she stared at it in horror. She'd almost forgotten all about it. Well not exactly forgotten, but certainly deliberately put it out of her mind. She knew from experience that these things took time, sometimes several months and had thought it could still be a while before she heard anything back about it.

As she tentatively reached for it now, memories of the nearly four hour ordeal at the hospital bombarded her and she fought against the rising sense of nausea that now threatened her semblance of calm.

She remembered how her partner had sat with her, his shoulders slumped, a sombre expression of incomprehension on his face as he had listened to her answer the very questions she was more used to asking. He had remained close by, as she had slowly removed all her garments, so they could take them to be examined and at one point he had placed his hand on hers as they had continued to take photos of the numerous wounds and blemishes that her body had suffered. Numbly, she had accepted the gesture, glad for his touch, for it reminded her that this was real, that she was in the hospital now, that she was no longer at the mercy of that animal. She had survived. She kept repeating the mantra silently throughout the entire process.

With silent tears streaming down her face, she had allowed the full medical exam. It was the last thing she had wanted, but how could she possibly refuse? How could she ever look another victim in the eye again if she didn't do what she avidly pushed others to undergo? It would have been the epitome of hypocrisy not to have agreed and so she had subjected herself to the humiliation of having strangers and colleagues see it all: the burns, the bruises, the brands and the undeniable fact that she was now officially a victim. She could almost hear them muttering to one another, overwhelmed by pity towards the sex crimes detective who had succumbed to that which she fought so hard to curb. It was devastating.

Then Brian had arrived and she had found herself in turmoil, partially horrified that he would see her reduced to this state, but at the same time so glad that he was there, for he was a reminder of what it felt like to be normal, to have a life outside of the job. More than that though, she needed him right now. She needed someone who would take her into their arms and just hold her. It was the simple truth: she didn't want to be alone right now.

When the process had finally ended, her wounds stitched and dressed, her arm secured, she had gone to the precinct, still feeling dazed. The effects of the alcohol had long dissipated by now, yet she still felt dizzy. It was as thought this were all some kind of horrifying nightmare: except she was awake.

Now, as she fingered the brown file that her Captain had handed her, she wondered whether she was actually strong enough to open it and see the contents: the photos, the official reports and the DNA evidence that would scientifically confirm her horrifying ordeal and thereby make it even more real.

She wondered briefly if he had already read the file. What was she thinking though? Of course he had. It was naïve to think he wouldn't have. She stole another glance at his face. His expression was sad but stoic. It was impossible to glean anything much other than the fact that he was upset. She could imagine that seeing the photos she knew were in there would unsettle anyone. Absentmindedly she found her fingers seeking out the wound beneath her left breast, through her shirt. This was one of the ones that would never fully heal. Every single time she stripped naked, it would be there to remind her viscerally. She closed her eyes briefly as she tried to force the memory from her head. It wasn't the pain that truly got to her either. It was the sickening smell of burning flesh.

"You need to do this, Liv," she heard him say. His words confused her. Why was it so necessary that she see it? As her fingers moved to hover over another hidden scar, this time on her stomach, she debated just handing it back and walking out of the office, for she already knew exactly what was in that file. It was the memories of those four days during which she had been held and tortured that ensured most of her nights were still long and broken. How would she ever forget?

She suddenly wondered what on earth she had been thinking kidding herself that she could still do this job. Maybe she was too broken now to help other victims. Maybe it had changed her too much. She couldn't get it out of her head. Every single day, every single case she drew parallels to her own experiences. It never left. She knew deep down that her Captain was right though. She did need to look inside that file, but she had never been so scared in her life. She decided she just needed a minute to refocus. Where was all that resolve that her colleagues insisted she possessed? It took all of her willpower to shift her thoughts away from the idea of running and back to actually opening that abhorrent file.

The Captain was still watching her intently and she suddenly felt self-conscious. She could almost see the pity in his eyes and for some reason it angered her. She wasn't some run of the mill victim. She was Olivia Benson, a seasoned detective. She was strong and determined; a survivor. She refused to let that bastard take away her identity.

With the rush of anger fuelling her resolve, she finally opened it and began to read.

Memories bombarded her as she thumbed the photos documenting her injuries. She cringed at some of the more distressing ones, knowing that those scars would never heal. She glanced over the initial hospital report and the interview sheets. She quickly skimmed over the results of the DNA tests. It was hardly a surprise to have it confirmed who her attacker was, but there was something satisfying about seeing it written there in black and white, proving without a doubt that he was the one responsible. She was secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't be weaselling his way out of justice this time. He was already being held on remand for two murders, kidnapping and a host of other crimes against her, a combination of which would certainly lead to a life sentence. At least she would be able to sleep easier knowing that he would never be able to hurt another woman – or her - again.

Then her eyes fell back on the medical report and she began to read it more slowly, taking in every terrifying detail of the injuries she had received. Concussion, a broken wrist, broken ribs, cuts, burns, bruises… it mirrored some of the worst cases she had ever dealt with and she could hardly believe it was actually about her. Then she halted her gaze lingering over words she could barely comprehend. This couldn't be right. They must be mistaken. Her disbelief was so complete that she even turned over the file to double check the name on the outside was hers, even though the photos had already more than proved that to her.

Her eyes refocused on the offended sentence and she drew her hand to her mouth as she began to understand what it meant and why Cragen had been insisting she see the file for herself.

Internal examination: seminal fluids present.

* * *

"Liv," are you alright?" she heard him say. His tone was thick with concern.

"I think I need to go home," she finally muttered, not even registering the extent of his surprise that she had actually asked for the leave rather than needing to be forced into it.

"Sure, Liv," he had said immediately. "Do you want me to call Brian?"

She shook her head adamantly. "No, Captain. I need to be alone right now."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea…"

"Please, Captain – Don - I just need some air, some time to get my head around this. I'll be fine, honestly. I just need to get out of here."

"At least let me drive you home."

"No! Honestly, I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry Liv, but I insist someone drop you home. If not me, then Amaro."

"Fine," she sighed giving in. At least her partner wouldn't ask questions or expect her to talk about anything. He would know better. She knew her Captain would never mention the contents of that file to anyone unless she gave her permission. She trusted he would never betray her confidence like that.

"Take as long as you need."

"I'll be back on Monday," she replied as she headed out of the door.

Cragen sighed, doubtful that a single weekend would be anywhere near enough time for her to come to terms with discovering what Lewis had done to her. She had vehemently maintained that she hadn't been raped from the start. He wondered if she had blotted it out or if the combination of drugs and alcohol had wiped her memory. He had been doing this job a long time though and he knew her well enough to notice that expression of reluctant recognition in her eyes when she had read the file. Something told him that even if she had somehow been able to blot out what had actually happened to her, she had definitely remembered now.

* * *

She remained silent in the car, ignoring her partner's friendly attempts to engage her in conversation. It was a relief when they finally arrived at her and Brian's new place.

She eagerly moved to open the door, but was halted when she felt his hand on her arm.

"Is everything ok?" he asked simply. She tried to quash the irritation that coursed through her. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Surely he could see she was in no mood to talk?

"Thanks for the lift," she muttered through clenched teeth. Then she softened, as she saw the expression of hurt briefly cross his features.

"I'm sorry. I just need some time." She knew she was being unfair. He was just worried about her. Opening up had never been one of her strong suits though.

"Understood," he said. If he was disappointed, he hid it well. She smiled gratefully and this time he didn't obstruct her from getting out of the car. He waited until she reached the door to her apartment block. She turned and waved once before slipping inside.

* * *

It was dark when he returned home. He wondered if Olivia had been caught up in another case, since there was no light seeping out from under the door. He sighed, wishing she would try and take things a little easier. He had been beside her every night these last few months and had witnessed firsthand the nightmares ravage her sleep. He had held her when she woke dripping in perspiration from the sheer intensity of recalling the absolutely horror she had been through. He had seen the desperation on her face as she had crumpled in his arms one moment and then pushed him away the next. He had seen the whole spectrum of emotions, exactly in tune with what he knew was completely normal from his stint at the special victims unit and exactly the reason he had left. He had never liked dealing with the victims. Only this time he couldn't just leave, because this was Olivia.

He stepped inside and immediately fumbled for the light switch. Then he saw her and he stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking as he took in her desolate position slumped on the floor, leaning against the sofa, her head resting on her knees.

For some reason he didn't like to go ahead with switching the light on. Instead, he crept over towards her and knelt down, gently laying his hand on her arm.

"Liv," he said quietly. "It's me."

Slowly she looked up and his suspicions were confirmed. Her cheeks were still damp, her eyes red, and a slight streak of mascara had worked its way downwards from her left eye. She absolutely embodied the notion of abject misery and it tore at his gut. How were they supposed to get over something like this? It seemed so futile to even attempt to try sometimes. Not for the first time he found himself floundering, not having a clue what to do to help her – to help them.

So he did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around her. He felt her leaning in to him and he was glad that she was receptive to his attempt at comforting her. He tightened his grip, desperately wishing that a simple hug really would be enough to make all of this go away.

* * *

He could tell she was silently crying again. He could feel the tears seeping through his shirt and the way her body was gently heaving with the sobs. He was puzzled. She hadn't cried like this since that third night after she had been found and when it had suddenly seemed to really hit her. He started to wonder if something specific had happened that day to bring this on and debated bringing it up. Despite their closeness, she wasn't always completely forthcoming about things and tended to bottle things up. He assumed that she was at least talking to her therapist about things, so tried not to be too demanding about what she shared with him. Right now though, he knew he had to ask her.

"Liv," he murmured with his mouth close to her ear, his hand circling her back comfortingly. "Talk to me. What's happened?"

He felt her taking in a deep breath and he waited patiently, wondering what on earth could have shaken her up so thoroughly.

After a while, she seemed to gather herself. Her vicelike grip on his shirt loosened and as she moved her head to the side, still leaning against his chest but allowing him to see her face; he saw that her tears had temporarily subsided.

"Tell me," he repeated watching her carefully. She seemed to be struggling for words.

"I saw the official report of my rape kit," she said tentatively.

"You did?" he asked surprised. He too had almost put it out of his mind.

"Just seeing it, I guess it brought back memories."

"It would," he said comfortingly. He was still convinced there was much more to it than that.

* * *

They had lapsed into silence again. She remained with her head against his chest, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. It felt safe and comforting. She breathed in his scent, noting that he had used the aftershave she had purchased for him – her favourite. His hands were warm. Not like _his_. When that monster had touched her she had recoiled, surprised by the coldness of his touch. She shuddered as she remembered how he had caressed her arms, her face, anywhere he could reach where her skin was exposed, fuelling her fear and causing the hairs to stand on end. He had complimented her as he ran his hands over her, calling her beautiful, but his words and the icy fingers on her skin had been nauseating.

"I've got you, Liv," she heard him whisper. Usually she would recoil at such an overt suggestion that she needed another person as much as this, but right now she was comfortable and had no desire to pull away, so she basked in his concern for her, enjoying the sensation of allowing another person to truly comfort her.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" he asked. He knew her ribs still gave her discomfort sometimes, especially at night after a long day at work.

"I'm fine," she replied quickly.

"Do you want some water?"

She shook her head. Then suddenly she was back there, in that car. He was holding the water bottle so tantalizingly close to her lips, teasing her, torturing her. Her mouth had never been so dry, thanks to the sleeping pills and all the alcohol he had plied her with. Her hands were pinned behind her back, her own body's weight heightening the strain and discomfort. Dizzy from lack of food and repeated chemical abuse, she had begged for some water, but instead he had forced yet more vodka down her throat and she had given in, almost glad to be receiving liquid in whatever its form.

Then, instead of stopping there like it usually did, the flashback continued.

"One more, lights out. I'll do you cold," he barked at her. The words resounded in her head, the fear as strong and as real as it had been then. Then she remembered. How pinned like that in the car, he had yanked down her pants and forced himself inside her. How could she have forgotten? How could she not have remembered? She remembered being so dizzy and disorientated. It felt almost like a dream, but she remembered the smell of his breath close against her face, the sound of him grunting as he moved, the feel of his hand around her throat as he neared the end. It had been fast, of that she was certain. A quick and temporary release for him, which made no sense in the context of what they thought they knew about his usual modus operandi but made total sense to her now. Seeing her pinned, disorientated, helpless, begging for something as simple as a sip of water had proved too enticing for him to resist the appeal of instant gratification. She remembered him apologising afterwards, saying he meant their first time to be more special and that the next time he would treat her right and take his time properly. Then he had forced more vodka down her throat, causing her to splutter, except this time she had swallowed it eagerly, welcoming the chance to escape from her horrifying new reality and ignore the new pain; the one between her legs.

* * *

"Liv!" she heard him, his voice insistent, almost a shout. She suddenly remembered where she was. She could feel the panic in her chest, her breaths coming fast and hard. She was no longer safely ensconced in his arms, but sitting, leaning forward, her heart racing, her palms sweating.

"Liv, you were gone there for a moment!" he said.

Her breathing wouldn't slow down. If anything it was getting faster. Her hands and feet felt numb. She felt like she was having a heart attack. What was happening to her?

"Breathe with me!" he was instructing her. "You're going to be okay. It's just a panic attack."

She complied and slowly over the next few minutes her heart rate slowed and she felt secure I the belief that he was right, that she wasn't about to die, that her heart was still beating and that she was still alive. Relief washed over her and she grasped his hand, grateful for his help in bringing her back to an even keel.

"Another flashback?" he asked her gently after a few more minutes.

She nodded, still feeling shaky.

"Something happened today, didn't it, Liv." he said. It wasn't a question.

"It was in the file," she admitted miserably.

"Tell me."

"I had forgotten, blocked it out maybe. I don't know. Just now, it came back to me and I remembered everything."

He felt nauseous as he feared what she was about to tell him. Her words just confirmed what somehow he had always feared deep down.

"He raped me, Brian. I remember it now, every single second."

With tears now forming in his own eyes, he stared at her helplessly. He had no idea what he could say that would in any way ease her obvious anguish.

"I'm okay though. I mean I will be."

He immediately tightened his grasp, holding her close, pulling her head downwards into his chest, partly in an attempt to comfort her, partly in an attempt to hide the fact that tears were now streaming down his face. How could it be that she was facing something as terrible as this, yet there she was attempting to comfort him?

"I know you will be," he managed to whisper, and he believed that wholeheartedly. The thing he wasn't sure of though was the answer to the question: would he?


	2. October Surprise

**A/N Thank you so much for all the response to the first chapter. I honestly did intend it to just be a one-shot, but I realized yesterday as I watched the latest episode, "October Surprise" that I actually feel inspired to continue writing alongside the episodes as they air to fill in the gaps. I couldn't help feeling disappointed with some aspects of episode 6 as I have been anxiously waiting for more scenes showing Olivia coping with her ordeal, but they seem to have brushed it aside already. I did think that the scene in Lindsay Anderson's apartment was significant though, even though it was downplayed a little. I was also inspired by the growing friendship between Olivia and Barba, as you will see when you read this chapter. **

**Anyway, assuming there is still interest, I think I might continue to add to this story. Please let me know what you think though.**

**Also I'm thinking about changing the title now that it's morphing into something more... I'm not sure. I will think about it a little over the weekend.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. S x**

* * *

2

"Are you hungry? I'll make you something."

"No I'll grab something on the way to work," she told him with a quick smile. She hated him fussing over her. She knew he was just trying to be the supportive boyfriend but she just wanted things to be normal and his offering to make her breakfast was hardly that. They usually just grabbed a pastry or something on the way to their respective jobs. She wasn't even certain they even had anything much in the way of food in the apartment anyway.

"Liv, are you sure about going in today?"

"Bri, we've been over this," she sighed impatiently. "I need to do my job. Sitting here dwelling over events I can't change doesn't help. I need to be out there, helping victims. It's the one thing that makes any sense."

"I'm just worried about you," he said, stepping closer, debating on whether he should pull her into an embrace or whether it would just irritate her further. Sometimes he found it extremely difficult to know what it was she needed or wanted. He had never been with anyone so fiercely independent before and it was disconcerting.

"Don't be," she said, taking his hands in hers, leaning upwards and pecking him on the lips. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Sure," he said resignedly. "Do you fancy going out for dinner?"

"If you like…" she replied neutrally.

He watched her disappear out of the door. It was so frustrating feeling like he wanted to do more to help her somehow, yet being constantly pushed away like this. He had assumed that moving in together would move their relationship on. He had even been thinking about eventually popping the question, but she was so distant lately. He knew it was almost certainly down to the trauma she had been through and he knew he shouldn't take it personally and just give her time, but even so he couldn't help worrying that this was some kind of slippery slope. It didn't help that he was so busy, more often than not pulling double shifts as he tried to get back into the department's good books. He knew he had a hard slog ahead of him both at work and with Olivia and it was exhausting to say the least.

* * *

She hurried up the steps to the precinct and slipped inside, her nervous anticipation instantly alleviated. Brian had tried on more than one occasion to convince her to let him take her to and from work since she had returned to the SVU, but she had refused, determined that she wouldn't cower away from doing the things she had always done. She told him adamantly that she refused to let Lewis continue to adversely affect her life. Of course outside alone, especially in the early hours of the morning or evening, she was always skittish, her senses heightened as she stayed alert to any kind of potential threat. Lately the mornings had begun to get darker as autumn settled in and winter approached and she wondered if maybe she should start accepting his or even her partner's offer of a ride soon. This morning when she stepped outside it was barely light and the streets were so quiet. It thoroughly unnerved her.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Barba seemingly appeared out of nowhere, joining her as they headed upstairs.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine. I didn't see you there."

She could feel him staring at her and she stopped and met his gaze questioningly.

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering how you're doing. Really I mean."

"I'm doing okay," she said quickly, horrified as she wondered for a moment if Cragen had showed him that report. Had he showed everyone? Did they all know? The thought of walking up there knowing that they had all pictured her being raped in their minds made her suddenly feel unsteady on her feet. It hadn't been so bad when she had been able to tell them all that yes she had been beaten, tortured and physically abused, but the thought of them knowing Lewis had gone that extra step, that she had been violated so horribly, that she was a _rape victim_, it just nauseated her. How was she supposed to look them in the face when they knew she had been tarnished in that way? Even as the thoughts raced through her head, she knew it was ridiculous, that her colleagues would never think like that, that what had been done to her didn't make _her_ dirty or contaminated, that it was Lewis who bore the shame. Even so, it was hard to shake off the feeling. It was also hard not to dwell on the fact that on some level she blamed herself and that if she did, maybe they had all questioned if she was at fault too.

"Liv! Let's sit you down for a moment!"

She could hear Barba's voice, but it seemed so distant. She was aware of his hand gently resting on her arm and she complied as he led her towards a bench that was just a little way down the corridor, but it felt surreal. For a second she wondered if she had actually blacked out. Then she felt him helping her down onto the seat and things began to come into focus again.

"Was it a flashback?" he asked her.

She shook her head slowly. What was it exactly? She wasn't sure.

"Try and slow your breathing," he instructed her. His hand was still on her arm, but his touch was strangely soothing. It somehow grounded her. It kept her in the present, as the past threatened to envelop her. She followed his example and gradually her breathing rate slowed. Then the embarrassment hit.

"I'm sorry about this…" she began awkwardly.

"Don't even think about it," he said quickly. "It happens."

She nodded gratefully, knowing he was trying to downplay it for her sake. She still couldn't help feeling exposed, but he was so unassuming, so surprisingly accepting that she found herself relaxing a little.

"You know if you ever need to talk, anytime, I'm here," he said.

"Thanks," she said, sensing his sincerity. It was strange, but for a moment she wondered if it would really be so bad to take him up on that offer sometime.

* * *

He accompanied her upstairs and made no mention of what had happened downstairs again. As she threw herself into investigating their latest case, her unease lifted and she was reminded that working really was a wonderful coping mechanism for her. Thinking of others certainly stopped her thinking about herself.

At lunchtime Brian rang as he often did and she sneaked upstairs into the crib to take the call. He informed her he had booked a table at the little French place where they gone on their first date after becoming an official item. Glad she had something to look forward to that evening, she returned to the bullpen reinvigorated and keen to continue on with the case. She and Amaro were scheduled to pay Lindsay Anderson a visit at her apartment, as part of the follow-up they usually carried out after a rape victim came forward.

* * *

As they stepped inside her apartment, Olivia looked around anxiously, taking in the strewn clothes and general mess, trying to force the memories of her own apartment from her mind. It had been two months since her attack, yet stepping back in there, seeing the physical evidence had triggered more than one flashback and had left her feeling shaken for days. Even though this place had a completely different lay-out and decor to her old apartment, the general disarray held enough similarity that she found herself involuntarily tensing.

She took a deep breath through her nose, determined not to show just how affected she was right now, banking on Amaro being more focused on Lindsay than on her. Then her gaze fell on the cigarette and she found she couldn't take her eyes off it. Lindsay sucked in slowly, leisurely breathing out the vapor which circled upwards, gradually thinning before disappearing out of sight. She watched it mesmerized, fighting the memory of the last time she had seen cigarette smoke so close, desperately trying to force the image of Lewis out of her head. She could feel the heat of the cigarette as he brought it almost to her skin, lingering for a few moments as she hardly dared to breathe lest the outward movement of her chest cause her to come into contact with it, then he had pushed it into her anyway, twisting it sadistically, her pain and terror heightened by the sickening smell of her singed flesh.

"Er, would you mind putting out your cigarette?" she said stonily, her voice emotionless, not betraying the turmoil of emotion that she was hiding inside.

Despite being informed it wasn't even real, she was still unable to relax.

When Lindsay challenged her, requesting to speak to Amaro alone, she feigned irritation, but the truth was she was never more relieved to escape. Outside in the corridor she leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath as she tried to compose herself before her partner reappeared. By the time he joined her, she had regained her equilibrium and she led the way down to the car, glad he hadn't asked her yet again if she was alright; a question she was thoroughly sick of.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Barba pulled her aside as she made her way towards the elevator.

"How's it going?" he asked and she knew he wasn't referring to the case. For some reason though, his question didn't irritate her as it would normally coming from anyone else. She could see the genuine concern in his expression and she had the impression that he actually wanted to hear the real answer.

"You know it's up and down," she said honestly, surprising herself. What was it about this guy that he could break through all her defenses so easily as this? Even her old partner had never broken through some of the walls she had in place.

"How's the counselling going?"

"It's a process," she sighed. She was still officially attending the sessions, but she had to admit that lately she had felt like she had been standing still, uncertain if they were actually doing any good. She hadn't even been since she'd had the results of the rape kit. She had cancelled the last couple of sessions before that anyway, making the excuse that she was too busy at work. It was exhausting going over and over the emotional impact of her ordeal, not to mention the other issues she preferred to avoid. She had felt like a brief rest and decided it wouldn't do any harm.

"You'll get there," he said encouragingly. She could hear the assured confidence in his voice and she wondered how he could be quite that certain given the limited amount of time they had actually known each other. It was sweet though, she decided as she watched the little light flicker on above the elevator doors signalling its impending arrival.

"I spoke to Amaro just now," Barba continued, sensing her need for a return to work-related conversation. "So you visited Lindsay Anderson?" The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside.

"Yeah. She recanted you know?" Olivia said, pressing the button for their floor.

"I heard. Then she told you Eddie came in the store with his wife! No chance! He hasn't seen her in three years…."

* * *

Brian had called her again, asking her if it was at all possible she could get off early to get ready as he had booked a table for seven. Given all the overtime this last week and the fact that her Captain still acted like he was terrified she would crack like a china doll under the slightest pressure, she knew that it wouldn't be a problem, so she promised him she'd be home by half past five, which would give her an hour to get ready before they had to leave.

She realized as she headed home that it had been a while since she had dressed up for a night on the town and that she was looking forward to it more than she had thought. It reminded her of normality: of life before Lewis and that was something she wanted to grasp with both hands. For one night she was determined to put all of it out of her mind and just go out like normal couples did and enjoy spending some time with her boyfriend. It still made her smile as she thought of him in that way. She had spent so many years single and alone that even now, sharing a place with him, she could still sometimes barely believe it. It was true they were different in so many ways, but he was a decent man and he had stood by her through all this. For that she was more grateful than he would ever know. He deserved some fun himself. He'd been through a lot lately himself. It was then she decided on the blue dress.

When she finally emerged from their bedroom, ready to leave, his jaw fell open in surprised appreciation.

"My God, Liv," he breathed. "You look absolutely beautiful!"

"Why thank you," she said awkwardly. "You're looking pretty fine yourself," she added, running her eyes up and down his figure. She never had been able to resist a man in a nice suit. He grinned, then slipped his arm through hers, leading her downstairs to the waiting taxi eager to embrace the night ahead.


	3. Dissonant Voices

3

Olivia and Brian's apartment

She placed the receiver back down and sighed. Sometimes it seemed that every attempt she made to try and embrace normality was thrown back in her face. The man loved parties, yet he had quashed her suggestion that they have a house warming without even taking a moment to seriously consider it. It wasn't as though she really wanted a damn party anyway. She was just trying to make an effort. She was so sick of people continuing to tread on eggshells around her and had thought perhaps inviting everyone into their home to see that she wasn't in fact falling apart behind the scenes, that she was getting on with life and even enjoying it, would do something to allay their unfounded fears.

She glared at the TV. She normally hated shows like American Diva, but lately she enjoyed the background noise when she was in alone. It was mindless entertainment and more importantly there was little danger of a sudden trigger. You could never predict what direction a drama or movie might go in and all it took was one thing. Sometimes it was more obvious - a glowing cigarette butt, a bottle of whiskey, the trunk of a car, the noise of water sloshing in a bottle, the sound of a gas stove being lit, but other times it was completely unpredictable exactly what would bring her back there. The result was always the same, however. It felt like she was taking at least three steps backwards every time she had a flashback and it frustrated her immensely that there was nothing she could do about it. She was held captive by her own mind.

She had got used to her new living arrangements. To be honest there wasn't a huge difference to when she had lived alone since both of them were so busy at work they were barely in. In fact they hadn't eaten dinner together at all that week. The only times they had really talked had been on the phone. It was still nice to come home to their shared place though, see his things scattered around and know that she wasn't alone any more, than she had someone who cared enough about her that he wanted to actually live with her. It was a comfortable feeling.

His immediate dismissal of her suggestion of a party continued to irk her though. She was certain it was because he had got it in his head that she wasn't up to such a social event and it annoyed her that he couldn't recognise that the very fact she had suggested it might mean that she was ready, or at least willing to try. She had only been thinking of inviting a few friends and colleagues anyway. It was never going to be anything huge: just enough to show everyone that she was doing fine.

Was she though?

It was a question she didn't like to consider in too much depth. She had taken it hard the day she had found out that the scientific evidence proved without a doubt that Lewis had violated her like that, but since then she had tried to force the memories from her mind, telling herself that it didn't change a thing really. The more time that passed, the more surreal it seemed in a way. She could almost forget. Then there were times when Brian was at work and she was sitting on her own, the TV on, but never loud enough to prevent her from being able to hear the slightest noise. Every time a neighbour returned home and she heard the sound in the hallway, she would tense with baited breath, her fingers fingering her weapon that she unashamedly kept close by when she was on her own. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be taken by surprise like that again.

Later

She glanced at her phone briefly as it beeped. He had fallen into the routine of letting her know he was on his way home in however many minutes, knowing that she was jumpy and that the sound of someone rattling her door would unsettle her unless she was expecting him at that precise moment. In addition she kept the door chained and so would need to unhook it for him if he was to enter anyway. She was surprised he had messaged her now. It was much earlier than he had originally predicted.

"Hey," he said, as he slipped inside, carefully locking the door behind him before heading over to where she was curled up on the sofa. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," she replied with only a slight smile. She hadn't really meant to sound quite so offhand, but she couldn't shake the irritation that still shrouded her.

"What's the matter?" he said, sinking down beside her and attempting to slip his arm around her.

"Nothing," she said curtly, wriggling free and getting to her feet. It was annoying that he had already forgotten their conversation. Obviously he couldn't care less about it one way or the other and it annoyed her that she did.

"Sure there isn't," he said a tad grumpily, following her into the kitchen.

"You want some tea?" she asked, deciding it might be a good idea to change the subject.

"No thanks."

"How was your shift? Why are you home so early?" Again she hated the way it came out. It was a genuine question, yet her tone probably sounded like she wasn't too pleased about the sudden change in plans. She wished they could start over. She had been looking forward to him coming home. Where was all this anger inside her coming from?

"It was fine," he answered. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but he sounded subdued. "It was quiet, so they let me leave early. I've hardly seen you all week. I thought it would be nice."

"It is."

He glanced at her warily. Something was definitely up, but he wasn't certain if there was something specific he had done or whether she was just in one of her moods, unfortunately a not uncommon occurrence since the whole Lewis ordeal.

"Liv, you know you can talk to me, right," he tried.

"Bri, please…"

"Fine," he said frustrated that once again she was blowing him off. "I'm going to go and shower." What was the point? It was like trying to get blood out of a stone with her sometimes.

She watched him disappear towards the bathroom, suddenly feeling guilty, a wave of disappointment also descending over her. She knew her emotions and moods were all over the place. It wasn't his fault, yet she still seemed to be lashing out at him for no good reason.

She wondered if she ought to make another appointment with her therapist. She hadn't been for a while. Work had been busy and she hadn't felt like talking. She didn't really feel like it now but watching Brian stomp off to the shower, obviously frustrated terrified her. What if he decided he couldn't deal with this – with her – anymore? What if he already wanted to leave but was too scared to tell her so.

She poured the hot water into her cup and dangled the tea bag up and down a couple of times, watching as the liquid darkened. So far tonight was not going well.

…

To her relief he returned about fifteen minutes later. She had been acutely aware of the fact he seemed to be taking so much longer than usual. He probably wanted to spend as much time away from her and her moods as he could. She felt every muscle in her body tense as he approached, as she teetered on the edge of an apology but found herself unable to come up with anything that would allow her to avoid the inevitable questions she suspected would come. She was so sick of telling him and everyone else that she was fine. It was a stupid question anyway. Of course she wasn't fine. She had been raped and tortured. She'd never be fine again. Harping on about it wasn't going to change anything though. She knew she had to say something though.

"Bri, I…" she started.

"It's OK," he said. "You don't need to apologise for anything. I understand."

"Why do you always do this?"

"What?"

"Be so damned understanding all of the time." It irked her that he considered her so fragile he wouldn't even let her take responsibility for her own bad mood.

"Liv, please, I don't want to fight. I just wanted to spend the evening with you. I've been looking forward to seeing you all day."

"Me too," she said once again sorry that she had ruined the atmosphere. What was wrong with her?

"Come here," he instructed her and fighting back the dampness that had begun to accumulate in her eyes, she leaned in and accepted his embrace, allowing the anger to dissipate as she concentrated on the feel of his arms around her. It was such an instinctive and deep-seated reaction: being in his arms unequivocally made her feel safe. She almost hated that she craved that feeling. It made her feel powerless, weak and it was not something she enjoyed.

"I know this is going to take time," he was whispering in her ear as he held her. She heard the words, she understood them, but right now it was difficult to really imagine that there might eventually be a day when she would feel normal again. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was as good as it would ever get?

Outside the courthouse

Olivia stared after Amanda as her words rang in the air.

_"You guys keep telling yourselves what you want. This didn't have to happen…" _

Was it true? Was any of this her fault? Had her judgment been impaired? It was certainly true that the case had taken its toll on her, but a lot of that was due to the long hours she had been required to put in, combined with the general feeling that whatever she did would never be enough. As she had explained to her counsellor, every time they locked up one predator, it was as though four more would just pop up out of nowhere. The cases with children were particularly hard and even though it turned out that these boys had thankfully not been touched, she knew the reality was that many others had and that some of them wouldn't be helped. It saddened her immensely.

Her thoughts returned to her own captivity and she remembered how one of the things that had got her through it was the knowledge that people would be out there looking for her: her partner, her squad, her boyfriend. It was only at the end, when he had finally got her alone in that house, when he had tied her to the bed and let her know in no uncertain terms exactly what he planned to do to her, that she had truly believed for the first time that help wasn't going to come. Lewis had been too shrewd. They had moved around too much. There was very little chance that she would be found before he could carry out what he had planned and that knowledge had hit her like a ton of bricks. It was hard to imagine that her life would end like that. After everything she had done to try and help victims, she was going to end up dying as one. It was ironic in a sickening way.

The memory of that feeling of cold acceptance had never left her though. It was the worst feeling she had ever experienced in her life and the thought of little children feeling like that pained he greatly. So much so that it had led her back to her counsellor that week.

Then he had asked her the question she hated more than anything else in the world. Who had been there to look after her when she was a little girl?

Certainly not her father and her mother had been a drunk, barely with it enough to tie her own shoes most days. She had effectively grown up alone, strengthened by the very fact she had quickly learned to fend for herself, determined that she would do whatever she could to help other people, especially children, throughout her life. Everyone deserved to have someone to look out for them. She knew that better than anyone. Her job enabled her to do what she could to help those who had no voice and it was everything to her.

She hadn't answered her therapist. She hadn't been willing to return to the memories of her mess of a childhood. What was the point in looking back? What mattered was what lay ahead. Maybe one day she would talk about it, but not now. Not when she was already so close to falling apart as it was. Thankfully he hadn't pressed the issue.

She was brought back to the present as she realised Barba was asking her if she fancied going for a coffee with them all. She shook her head. She'd had enough. She decided to head back to the precinct, grab some of the paperwork that had piled up over the last few days and head home and finish it there.

"Maybe another time," she said. He nodded, quickly disguising the brief flash of disappointment on his face. She smiled. He was a good guy. She could see their friendship growing over time. She hoped that would be the case anyway.

The precinct

As she walked over to her desk she was all too aware of Amanda's presence. She was slumped over her own desk, to all appearances engrossed in paperwork. Even with her head down, Olivia could tell she was still angry. On any other day she may have attempted to talk to her younger colleague, but she was too exhausted to deliberately open that can of worms. Instead she began to gather her papers, placing them carefully into her bag and then checking her phone to see if Brian had contacted her. She didn't notice Amanda's approach until she was almost at her desk.

She eyed the younger woman warily, waiting for her to speak, but she remained standing staring at her, an uncertain look on her face.

"What is it?" she asked finally.

"I don't know how to say this…"

"Just spit it out. I'm heading home in a minute."

"How's the, er, counselling going?"

"Fine, thanks, although I'm not entirely certain what business that is of yours."

"Look, I'm sorry. You're right. It isn't… except… well we're colleagues. We've been working together for three years now and we know each other right? I mean, I'd like to think we are friends even."

"You're questioning my ability to do the job?"

"No. I mean, well not exactly. It's just, If I'm completely honest, I find myself questioning your judgement sometimes. That's all. I mean this case. You seemed so convinced that the guy was diddling those kids and Amaro, it's like he's too scared to speak up and say anything. I tried to get people to listen, that there was something not right that I couldn't put my finger on. I just felt ignored, I suppose. It's like everyone is too worried about upsetting you to dare disagree with you. I just don't think it's good for us, as a team, as a unit."

"I appreciate your honesty."

"Look, I didn't mean it to come out quite like this. We're all worried about you I guess. It's not easy for any of us."

"I get that. I'm sorry. I'm doing my best."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"No you should. I'm glad you did. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

Amanda watched in dismay as Olivia gathered the rest of her things and left. She had been convinced those things needed to be said, but hearing her own voice as she spoke them out loud, she suddenly felt incredibly petty and guilty. The woman had been through the worst experience of her life and here she was laying into her, suggesting she couldn't do her job properly. How insensitive could you get?

Impulsively, she hurried out after her, determined to catch up and apologise, but by the time she reached the lift it had already left.

"Damn," she said, as she punched at the wall beside the lift call button. Why couldn't she just have kept her mouth shut?

Olivia and Brian's apartment

Brian opened the door nervously as he realised there was no light on inside. He had messaged her ten minutes ago saying he was on his way but she hadn't replied. Had she slipped the chain off the lock and gone to bed? It seemed unlikely. It wasn't even half past eight yet and he knew for a fact that she was nervous about being in on her own with the chain unhooked. He quickly swept through the apartment, his worry growing as he realised there was no sign of her. Where could she be? He immediately dialled her number but it went straight to voice mail. Next he tried Amaro, but he had no idea where she was either. Apparently she had left the precinct over four hours ago, saying she was heading home.

Fear gripped his heart as his mind instantly went back to the last time she had gone missing like this. Was it possible something else could have happened to her? Was she even a danger to herself? She had never shown any signs of being suicidal, even after everything that she had suffered. She was a survivor through and through, but it did occur to him that she had been acting moodier than usual of late; ever since the rape kit results in fact. He tried to calm his racing thoughts. More than likely there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Once again he dialled her number, this time leaving a message on her voice mail, begging her to get in touch as soon as she could.

Then the doorbell rang and he breathed a deep sigh of relief. This had to be her. Maybe she had gone out with someone after work and forgotten her keys or something. He almost leapt over to the door, opening it without even checking the peephole.

"Liv?" he exclaimed as soon as he started pushing the door open and before he could see who was actually there.

"Er, Brian? No, it's me, Amanda. I just popped by to have a word with Liv actually. Isn't she in?"

"Rollins?" Brian said, his brow furrowing as the worry immediately returned. He had been so convinced it would be her.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. She's not answering her phone."

"She's missing?" Amanda asked, the colour draining from her cheeks as she immediately wondered if their conversation back at the precinct had anything to do with it.

Brian nodded slowly, stunned. It was as though his mind was frozen. He had no idea what to do.


	4. Military Justice

**A/N Anyone else pick up on the tension in the Barba, Olivia and Amaro scene where they discuss how to obtain the suspects' DNA? Well, using that as my main inspiration, here is my take on things... hope you enjoy. **

4

She had asked the cabbie to stop a short way down the road. She could see the house from where they were pulled up but she guessed there was little danger of being spotted. The place looked the same as it always had. She could almost imagine them all inside, their lives no longer clouded by the darkness of sex crime victims and frustrating court cases; happy. She took a deep breath. What was she doing here? It had been three years and he barely contacted her, not at all in the last couple of years. It was ridiculous to think he had any desire to see her again after all this time. Ever since that face off with Lewis though, she had found her thoughts frequently turn to her old partner. It played on her mind a lot lately.

"Are you getting out?" the cabbie inquired, a slight touch of impatience in his tone. She could detect the fact he wasn't a native English speaker from his accent and briefly pondered his origins, deciding he was probably from Eastern Europe, although he had enough of a twang to suggest he had lived in the US for a number of years.

"Just a minute," she said quickly. What should she do? Coming here had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now faced with walking up to that door, ringing the bell and actually seeing him, she was having serious doubts. What should she say? What if he was annoyed she had turned up? Why was she clinging to the remnants of an long disintegrated partnership like this? He had obviously moved on with his life. Besides he was a married man. This was wrong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry. This was a wasted trip. Can you take me back?"

"To Manhattan?"

"Yeah, please."

"You're crazy, lady."

"Yes, I am," she agreed miserably.

* * *

She got the cab driver to drop her off at a little bar and then after debating for a moment or two she replaced her phone in her pocket and ordered a glass of red wine.

"You waiting for someone?" the bartender asked her conversationally as he passed her the glass.

"Nah," she replied, taking a long sip, enjoying the first sensation of the fruity taste in her mouth.

* * *

By the time she was half way through her second glass, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and made the call she had been debating over earlier.

"Hey, Liv. What's up?"

"Not much. I was just wondering if you fancied a drink."

"I was just finishing up actually, so why not? Where are you?"

"Malley's."

"Sure, well I can be there in about twenty minutes."

"See you soon."

* * *

"Do you want the rest of the bottle?"

She shrugged. True it was her third glass and she wasn't entirely convinced she was about to stop there, but it hardly made her feel classy to be asked that. Who was she kidding though? She was a mess. She had finally understood why her mother had drowned herself in alcohol every chance she got. Even though she knew full well that it would never solve anything, it certainly temporarily muffled the pain slightly and that was something she eagerly craved right now.

Thanks to drinking on an empty stomach, she could already feel a significant buzz. The bar suddenly seemed so much larger, her vision of the world a little fuzzy and considerably less threatening. The sound of her phone ringing threatened to distract her and pull her back to a place she had no desire to be, so she quickly redirected the call to her voice mail and then switched the phone off altogether. For once she was going to just forget everything and succumb to the effect she had sought when she had first headed into this bar.

"Hey Liv!"

She heard his voice, recognised it, but for a moment couldn't think why on earth he would be here. Then she remembered. She had called him asking him to come.

"Hey, Rafael," she slurred as he slipped into the seat beside her."

"Are you here on your own?" he asked surprised.

"Uh huh," she nodded, taking another sip.

"Oh, I assumed you'd be here with the others."

"Nope."

"How much have you had?" he asked, eyeing her glass and fixing her with a sharp look.

"Not many," she said haughtily.

"What can I get you?" the bartender inquired, stepping over.

"Whatever she's drinking," Barba said.

"And another one for me," Olivia said quickly, proceeding to finish the remaining third of a glass in one huge gulp.

"Maybe you ought to slow down a bit?"

"Maybe you ought to mind your own business."

She watched him nervously, waiting for some kind of quick-witted lawyer like response, but none was forthcoming.

"Liv," he said finally, laying a hand on her arm. "Did something happen tonight?"

"No. I'm just trying to enjoy myself," she said meekly.

"You're drunk. I'm worried about you."

She sighed, her eyes downcast.

"Look, come on. Let's go over there." He was indicating a free table tucked away in the back corner of the bar. "I'll get you a glass of water and we can talk."

Expecting resistance he was surprised when she simply nodded. He led her to the table and she followed obediently.

"I'm sorry," she said once they were comfortably seated.

"Talk to me Liv. I'm your friend."

Nervously she reached out, bringing her fingers to his hand where it lay on the table, almost inviting her approach in her view. He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze, their eyes meeting briefly before she withdrew, now placing both of her hands in her lap.

"Is it the case?" he asked.

"No not really," she sighed. "Although, Rollins is convinced everyone is walking on eggshells around me, too scared to speak out or disagree with me in case they upset me."

"I don't think so," he said hurriedly.

"She may be right," Olivia said flatly. "I don't blame people for feeling awkward around me."

"Liv, you're a great detective."

"I was."

"You still are."

"But am I? Every single case gets to me, you know. I can't help it. Every story I hear, reminds me of what happened to me. But it shouldn't. I should be…"

"What? What should you be?"

"…stronger," she said, her voice lowering. No longer able to maintain eye contact, she dropped her gaze to the table as the tears filled her eyes.

"Why are you looking away, Olivia?"

"I…"

"Liv, look at me, please." His tone was gentle and despite her natural instinct to want to hide it, she found herself raising her head and meeting his eyes. She could see the gentle compassion in them, his general concern for her and she found herself inexplicably drawn, wanting to show him, wanting to tell him, wanting to share the pain that she tried so hard to bury, too afraid that if she even let a small part of it to the surface it would completely overwhelm her, leaving her floundering and no longer able to cope.

"It's OK," he said softly.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," she said slowly, feeling the first tear roll its way down her cheek.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a clean hankerchief, leaned forward and gently wiped it away, before handing it to her. She took it hesitantly.

"Keep it," he said. "I have plenty."

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Why are you so tough on yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's as though you are holding yourself to a higher standard. You went through a terrifying ordeal, Olivia. It's OK to cry. It's OK to show people that you're struggling to come to terms with what happened to you."

"I can't fall apart. I have a job to do."

"Admitting you're finding it hard doesn't mean you're falling apart."

"I know, but…I just… I mean I have always kept things to myself, you know."

"Your colleagues care about you. They want to help."

"I know."

His words hung in the air for a moment, as she brought the handkerchief back to her face to dab her eyes once more. She was barely able to conceal the yawn. She was exhausted from the weeks of disturbed sleep and the alcohol had only heightened her fatigue.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked softly.

"I am tired, but you not long got here."

"Honestly it's fine. We can go out again, another time."

"I'd like that," she nodded.

"Besides we can talk in the car."

"Are you okay to drive?"

"I only had a couple of sips," he smiled, getting to his feet.

* * *

He pulled up outside her and Brian's place. She had directed him to a side road, which being less busy meant she could take her time to say thank you and goodbye. It was darker down here too she thought as she pressed the seat belt release.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

She nodded slowly.

"I care about you too, Olivia," he added. "I know we haven't known each other very long, but I consider you a friend."

With tears once again threatening to blur her vision she raised her head to meet him in the eye.

"Me too," she whispered forlornly. He leant in, slipping his arms around her, pulling her into him for a hug. She relaxed into it, enjoying his warmth, his scent and his simple offer of friendship. She could feel his hand circling her back soothingly and despite being vaguely aware that the lines of friendship were perhaps being blurred right now, she didn't care. It felt right. It felt good. Then unable to resist, she found herself instinctively seeking him out and for the briefest of moments their mouths met and she could feel his soft lips against hers, sending a tingle through her that was both alluring and confusing. This was wrong she wasn't supposed to be doing this. Brian was waiting for her indoors.

Barba must have felt the same, for he instantly pulled back, a look of dismay on his face.

"I'm so sorry," he began. "I shouldn't have done that. I am so sorry Olivia. Please forgive me."

"It's my fault," she whispered, horrified at what she had just done and outside their apartment no less. It had been the most fleeting of kisses, yet it had still occurred. The guilt racked her already.

"No. It's my fault. I wanted to help, comfort you somehow. I took it too far. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "But I'd better go."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight. Thanks for the ride."

"Goodnight Olivia."

She got out of the car, awkwardly giving him a slight wave, before heading round the front and indoors. Once in the lobby and out of sight of the street, she leaned against the wall, taking a moment to compose herself. What had she just done? She had never thought of Rafael Barba in that way before, but there was no denying the fact that pressed up against him, her lips on his, she had felt something, an attraction she was terrified to acknowledge. It was wrong though. It couldn't happen. She was with Brian and she loved him. It must be the alcohol. It was the only explanation.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself enough to venture upstairs. She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten o clock. He was probably wondering why she was so late.

* * *

"Oh God, Olivia! You're okay!" he cried the second she opened the door.

"What? Of course I'm okay," she replied baffled. Then she realised just how genuine the look of concern on his face actually was.

"I've been calling you," he said.

"Have you? Oh yeah. I switched my phone off," she explained. She had completely forgotten about that.

"Why? I've been worried sick."

"I went out for a couple of drinks with a friend."

"I see," he said, still not understanding why that had meant she had to switch her phone off.

"I just needed a break."

"You could have let me know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, pulling her in for a hug. She hugged him back, closing her eyes shut tightly as she tried to will away the memories of what had just happened downstairs.

"I'm tired, Bri," she said, pulling away.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not hungry. I think I'll just go to bed."

"Come on, you have to eat something."

"Like I said, I'm not hungry."

"If you're sure."

She headed into the bedroom. She knew he was disappointed and that she probably owed him a little more than a quick hug good night, but she desperately needed the time alone to think. Her head was spinning.

* * *

"The vic's name is Amelia Albers," Amaro told her as they hurried towards the elevator. The case had just come in and they had been sent out to speak with the Coast Guard ensign who had been arrested after being discovered wandering the streets obviously under the influence. It appeared there was some suspicion that she might have been attacked and sexually assaulted, hence their involvement. That 'suspicion' seemed blatantly obvious to be the actual case the second Olivia caught sight of the bloodied and dishevelled young woman.

The sight of her immediately brought back the memory of the first time she had seen herself in the mirror after her own attack. The sheer extent of the bruising and blood had taken her aback. Of course she had felt everything as it had happened, but it was only afterwards, when confronting the aftermath in it entirety that the truly violent nature of the ordeal she had suffered really hit home. Up until then she had just taken each moment as it had come.

She forced the images out of her mind as best she could, determined to give Amelia her full attention. She deserved no less. This wasn't about her. This was about helping someone else.

* * *

Convinced now that the very colleagues who were supposed to have Amelia's back had been responsible for her attack, Olivia tried to curb her anger that was simmering dangerously below the surface. Dancing closely and kissing were never invitations for a vicious sexual assault and besides, Amelia had hardly been in a state for informed consent anyway given the blood alcohol level that the hospital had detected. These men had raped her, yet it was she who worried about losing her job and her reputation. How was that in any way fair? Well there was no way on earth she was going to let her attackers get away with this.

"Did they rape you?" She heard Rollins ask gently.

Olivia watched as the distraught woman began to sob even harder, convinced that she would be dishonorably discharged and that she had let down her family.

"I know how hard this is, but you've got to find a way to deal with it," Olivia whispered softly, half-wondering if she wasn't talking to herself as much as she was to Amelia. It was all very well knowing what to say to a victim at a time like this, but a very different thing actually taking those comments on board yourself. Her heart went out to the young woman, because she understood exactly what it was like to be there, both proud and relieved to have survived such a horrific trauma, yet almost paralyzed by terror at the thought of the long road ahead.

* * *

"Where's Amelia now?" Barba asked stiffly.

"Well she's in the hospital, still bleeding…kidney infection," Olivia replied heavily. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

In fact the entire conversation was excruciatingly uncomfortable on various levels. The fact that she too had suffered a kidney infection during the aftermath of her own ordeal was only one aspect. There was also the fact that since that night of the "almost kiss" as she tended to think of it, she hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him and this was actually the first time she had seen him since. She could tell he was just as uneasy as she was. He stayed focused on the case at hand, coming across to be the epitome of professionalism. She was grateful he wasn't going to let any awkwardness get in the way of them doing their jobs at least, but she couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that he hadn't said something, anything at the end of the conversation to imply that he wanted to talk about what had happened.

* * *

Olivia stared in shock as the US coast guard officers led Amelia Albers out of Barba's office. The handcuffs around her slender wrists glinted and immediately she was back there, her own wrists shackled, Lewis forcing vodka down her throat. She swallowed hard; desperate to shake the memories, but she couldn't get the glint of those handcuffs out of her head.

"Hey, are you alright?" She heard him approaching and nodded automatically, wondering if he could see beneath the lie. She had felt the colour drain from her cheeks. He must see something was wrong, surely?

He stepped over to the door and closed it so it that they were alone in his office.

"Liv, why don't you take a seat for a minute? We need to talk."

"I need to get back to the one-six," she stammered awkwardly. She really wasn't in the mood for the predictable, "I think we ought to keep our distance talk," that she suspected was coming.

"It can wait a minute, right?"

"I guess," she said, resigned.

"Look, Liv, I'm sorry about the other day. You were drunk. I shouldn't have done that. I think I just got caught up in the intimacy of the moment or something."

"It's not your fault," she said soberly. She distinctly remembered it was her who had leaned in for the kiss, not him. It was sweet of him to want to take responsibility though, she thought.

"I don't want this to affect our friendship."

"Me neither," she agreed firmly.

"So we're okay?"

She nodded, smiling slightly.

"Phew," he sighed with relief. "I thought I'd ruined things."

"Let's just forget about it," she said. "We'll talk soon okay?"

"OK," he said with a smile.

* * *

Olivia watched Amelia on the stand, moved to see the bravery of the gentle soft-spoken woman. Standing up and facing your rapists in open court had to be unimaginably hard, but Amelia was not only doing that, but doing it with dignity. It almost moved her to tears to see her there answering each difficult question with poise.

"During sexual assault, it may be advisable to submit rather than resist," Barba summarized.

Olivia felt a shiver travel down through her body as the poignant words took her back into that car once again. She could feel Lewis pressing into her and she shuddered as she remembered how she had effectively let him. Of course there had been nothing she could do. She was pinned by the restraints and by his body weight. Fighting was pointless and he had threatened to knock her unconscious. So she had given in. She had closed her eyes and attempted to relax her body as much as she could, anything to make the onslaught easier on herself. She did what she had to do, but even so it was hard to come to terms with the fact that she hadn't done what she had always told herself she would: she hadn't fought to the bitter end. Her colleagues all saw her as a fighter, who had succeeded in escaping from one of the worst sociopaths they had ever come into contact with, but only she knew the sad truth: that she had in fact, albeit briefly, submitted.

* * *

Once the court case was finally over and the verdict given, Olivia waited outside with the others to congratulate Amelia on the win. It was a huge achievement and everyone was elated.

"Amelia, I'm so sorry you went through this," Olivia said sincerely. "I promise it will get better…" It was the standard spiel and she desperately hoped it would be the case… for them both.

Then she heard Amelia's Father's words as he conveyed how proud he was of his daughter for standing up to her rapists, telling her she had more guts than any of them. She nodded silently as they walked away. He was right. She was an inspiration.

"Do you fancy a coffee, Liv?" she heard Barba asking her.

"Sure," she said, forcing a slight smile. She was determined not to let what had happened in the car affect a good friendship.

Together they headed back inside.


End file.
